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I was feeling stressed out with two kids on the hip and one in the oven, so to speak. My two little ones and I were at the laundromat, and I was desperate to get home and put the kids down for naps so I could get some rest, too. My 2½-year-old had to go to the restroom, and when I came back, an old lady was slowly putting her clothes in my dryer. My spirit sunk. No other machines were available.

“Mommy, your face is red. What’s wrong?” Timmy asked. I had to make a choice quickly: I could be angry at the old woman and demand what was rightfully mine or I could be patient and kind.

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